


third eye

by Wagandea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus is 18 and Gellert is 15, Gellert is a Seer but written without Fantastic Beasts in mind, Inspired by Richard Siken, M/M, referenced other Albus ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 08:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wagandea/pseuds/Wagandea
Summary: "You’re fifteen and you’ve never met someone who understands you before, and no one ever told you going after older boys would only end in a broken heart."





	third eye

You see yourself in Albus Dumbledore’s bed before you even know  
his name. You see a lot of things about Albus, actually

( _silver hair and beard, wizened black hand, phoenix feather, rings_  
 _tangling in a boy’s black hair, a wardrobe on fire, leaning over a_  
 _pensieve with another black-haired boy_ )

, but that is by far the most important.  
There’s no need to rehash the introduction, the part where your  
great-aunt calls you into the parlor to meet the neighbor boy. You  
know everything you need to know about Albus Dumbledore before  
you even know his name, or, at fifteen you _think_ you do,  
  
you think you have the whole world laid out in front of you,

and at fifteen you feel invincible. You can have anything you want,  
darling boy, and what you want is _him_. Because he’s older and  
wonderful and you like the way his mouth moves to form spells and  
because you’ve seen yourself in his bed.

The Sight doesn’t usually latch onto people like this. You see small  
snapshots of most people you meet, but Albus is _special_

and at fifteen you decide that means you’re destined to be together.  
You’re fifteen and you’ve never met someone who understands you  
before, and no one ever told you going after older boys would only  
end in a broken heart.

You trade fantasies about ruling the world, as most foolish young  
revolutionaries dream of one way or another, and he reads you  
fairytales.  
He makes you feel special too, doesn’t he? He makes you feel loved. In  
Albus’s bedroom  
and _only_ in his bedroom  
you are not that troubled boy who has no place being around other  
children. He spreads you on the floor and dissects you with his eyes.  
This part comes later.

He kisses you halfway through _The Warlock’s Hairy Heart_. This should  
be momentous, but you’ve already had the end spoiled for you. Albus  
pushes you onto your back and plies you with soft words and kisses to  
the insides of your thighs. The warlock dies with a heart in each hand.  
You keep thinking, if you give up enough pieces of yourself, you’ll get  
Albus in return. You fail to realize relying on your Sight to know him is  
not the same thing. Albus does not give himself up willingly, but you?

You let him do this because you think you’re supposed to want it too.  
No one ever told you you’d be this nervous. No one ever told you he’d  
take so much from you. By the second time you think you could get used  
to this; and you make a habit

of sneaking over to the Dumbledore house at night and tapping at his  
window until he lets you in. You make a habit of sleeping next to him,  
and sometimes you dream of kissing him in the garden two weeks from  
now and sometimes you dream about sparks and spells flying in a ruined  
city, you on your knees, an unfamiliar wand spinning in the air between  
you. Sometimes you dream of his whipping boys, and there’s at least two  
of them, both with dark hair and dark eyes, but you were his _first_ and  
that’s what matters.

Tom and Severus and Gellert and Harry. You learn these names. The  
las boy, Albus is kindest to. The last boy, Albus doesn’t touch, though he  
might as well have. But he doesn’t wind his fingers in that boy’s hair  
like he does  
the others,  
and if he pulls too hard on your curls you never say anything one way  
or another.

You are learning what it means to be Gellert Grindelwald through his eyes.  
There has to be some other future out there, somewhere…

There are a lot of things your visions can tell you, but they can’t ever tell you  
if he loved you back. You knew, didn’t you? Late July, with the sun setting  
on everything in sight.

When you run, it’s away from him. And you keep hoping something is  
going to follow, you keep hoping this isn’t where you&him end, but Albus  
never chases after and you keep running.

You’re fifteen and you wish you’d heard the end of that story, that fairytale  
he was reading you. The warlock dies with a heart in each hand, and you’ve  
already given Albus yours.


End file.
